Cedar House
by househunter55
Summary: Helga gets put into a psych ward
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first try at this. I do not own Hey Arnold._

 **Chapter 1**

This story begins when I was in medical school. I was on my psychiatry rotation in upstate Washington at an in-patient facility, Cedar House. The hospital housed around 200-220 patients with mostly non-violent offenders. My attending, Dr. Mehta, assigned me to follow three patients during my rotation. One, John Amodeo, had a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. Another, Zach Blaser, had severe recurrent major depression disorder with suicidal ideations. Finally, Helga Pataki, was here in need of further behavioral evaluation. My interactions with her are what this story concern.

On my first day, I arrived at 6:04 am. I meet my senior resident, Dr. Niven, and the intern, Dr. Perez. They orient me to the facility which consists of five floors but we are working mostly on the fourth floor. To start the day, I begin reviewing the charts, nothing remarkable jumps off the page for Mr. Amodeo who has been largely complaint with his treatment. Mr. Blaser also has been a model patient; he's what we call a "rock" or a patient who is here until we get placement for him to leave the hospital. Ms. Pataki was transferred here overnight from a nearby metropolitan hospital where she was treated for facial lacerations. During her stay, it appears the staff was concerned for possible behavioral issues and bipolar disorder. After she stabilized, they sent her to Cedar House on orders from her family. Interesting.

I finish chart reviewing and prepare to interview the patients so I'm ready for rounds that start promptly at 9 am or so I'm told. Mr. Amodeo and Mr. Blaser are both doing well, tolerating their medications, and we will stay the course of their current treatment plans. Excellent patients to present for rounds as there isn't much to question with that plan. Ms. Pataki, I anticipate, will present a larger hurdle. But as a still somewhat naïve third-year, I am optimistic this will not be too bad. I enter her room on the fourth floor, unit 45, room 12. There's a sliding glass door and a curtain drawn behind it so I can't tell if she's in there. It's now 7:14 am so I am way ahead of schedule. Go me. I knock on the glass and enter.

"Hello, Ms. Pataki?"

There's no reply, she may be sleeping but there are some low lights on so this is not likely. I press on.

"Ms. Pataki?"

"Yeah."

"Hi. My name is Joshua Locker. I am a third-year medical student with the psychiatry team. Nice to meet you."

No response. At first glance I notice a young blonde girl, who I know to be 17 from her chart. She looks a little worse for wear. Her long blonde hair is unkempt, her eyes are injected and red, her skin is pale so much so that I think she is anemic. Also, she is quite thin, and I imagine when she arrived at the initial hospital that she was malnourished. I proceed with the interview although this is more about building rapport with the patient today. I'm a third year so no one excepts much.

"How are you doing today?"

She looks up at me and immediately I notice her striking blue eyes. Her other features are relatively plain and she does have a unibrow upon closer inspection. She's not what I consider traditionally attractive, but any such line of thinking I cut-off as that is highly inappropriate.

"Oh, just swell!"

Great, sarcasm.

"Yes, I read your chart and see you've had an incredibly difficult few days. Can you tell me anything about that?"

"Well, I could or you could mind your business. How old are you anyways? Twelve?"

"I apologize for appearing intrusive miss, but the more we know about what happened, the more we can do to help."

"Yeah, yeah I get it. So how much do you know already."

"Just that you had an injury on your face, then that your parents requested you be sent down here to Cedar House for further evaluation on some behavioral concerns, does that sound accurate?"

"Yes and no." She looks up at me again with those blue eyes, such contrast to the rest of her pale skin and blonde hair.

"How so?"

"Well, its complicated. My dad's a dick. Like a world-class one. My mom's a drunk. Again, like a world-class one. So it was a recipe for little ole me to get in some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"My dad, Bob, is in the electronics business and hasn't been doing so hot lately. He had an important buyer pull out at the last minute. He was less than pleased. I probably could have been a little more subtle in mentioning this failed deal to him. So then he slaps me across the face, hard."

Interesting, this was not mentioned in any documentation I saw. Domestic violence is always well-documented. Red flag.

"I'm sorry to hear that miss Pataki. What happened next?" I say with a reassuring touch on the knee.

"Get your paws off the merchandise bucko!"

I quickly remove my hand and make a mental note not to do that again.

"Anyways, then I went to Arno… a friend's house and Arno… I mean my friend, made me report this." Her face starts to blush when she talks about this friend.

"Does your friend know where you are now?"

"No." Her eyes darken and her fists tighten around the worn hospital sheets.

"Would you like me to contact your friend for you? Seems like they may be worried."

"No. When I say friend, it's more of an acquaintance."

I raise my eyebrow at this. Seems fishy to me but at this point it's not really relevant to my rounds report so I leave it be and will revisit it later.

"Ok, so you went to the police and then they sent you to the hospital, correct?"

"Yeah, so perceptive Sherlock." She says with some bite in the words.

"Did the police bring charges to your father on the abuse?"

"No, Big Bob would never let that fly. He's got some friends in the department. Those buffons wrote the whole thing off as me being some kind of hysterical teenager who attacked her father."

"Well that doesn't sound very credible to me." I can't imagine how this could be a plausible explanation considering what I've been told thus far.

"Listen here Joshie boy, I'm about to admit something deeply personal that can explain why me being crazy isn't so far fetched so YOU BETTER SHUT YOUR TRAP AND NEVER MENTION THIS AGAIN! Ok?" Helga yelled this emphatically and with a bulging vein on her forehead.

"Ok." I squeak.

"…. I… I may have… I cannot believe I am about to tell YOU this. I have some shrines and books of poetry that when examined out of context seem somewhat odd."

"That doesn't sound so strange… what kind of shrines."

"They are made of bubblegum. Chewed by the person the books of poetry are about."

My eyes widen and I cough into the sleeve of my whitecoat to avoid Helga seeing the reaction on my face. That's pretty weird.

Helga reaches out a pale arm grabs my coat, pulling me nose to nose with her.

She whispers in a threatening tone, "Now you hear me you 14-year old prepubescent child, don't you breathe a word of this."

First off, the prepubescent crack is a low-blow at my baby face. Second off, I am terrified but sense an opportunity to really help this girl out.

"Understood Miss Pataki. If you'll allow me, I would be glad to hear the story behind these shrines. Before you respond, I think that me knowing your reasoning with this will allow me to rely it to our team and clear this whole mess up. If what you say is true, you shouldn't be at Cedar House and your father should be held responsible for his actions." I finish my plea see in her eyes a contemplative look.

Helga purses her lips and furrows her single brow while staring me down. "Ok, Joshie. I'll bite. Come back later and we can chat some more."

"Sounds like a plan, miss Pataki." I extend my hand and she simply looks at it. No hand shakes yet. Baby steps.

I leave her room going over my presentations in my mind for our attending, anxiously awaiting another meeting with Miss Pataki as well.

 _That is it for chapter 1. Will likely change viewpoints throughout story. Please let me know what you think. Hopefully can update soon._


	2. Chapter 2

_My apologies about the missing words for the last chapter, I updated it so it should read much smoother now. This is from Helga's perspective, the italics are the flashback and is from the perspective of a third-party narrator. I have a clearer vision for this story now. I do not own Hey Arnold._

 **Chapter 2 (Helga perspective):**

 _Beep… beep… beep…_ I hear the medical machine continually run like some sort of Chinese water-torture device.

Helga ole girl, how did you get in this mess? I look around the small room with its egg-shell white walls, brown floors that mimic wood and the fluorescent lighting that turns on what seems like every half hour for some staff member to come in and do some menial task.

I look at the hospital bed with its coarse sheets and plastic frame that probably costs 3x more than my car. I see my reflection in the mirror through the open bathroom door to my left. My face is tired, eyes have bags under them, hair matted. I look as I always have. Ugly, unappealing. It's no wonder why I am in this mess and why no one has come to visit me or inquired of my whereabouts.

As I fully embrace the futility of my situation, I feel a sadness overtake me. I am no stranger to this feeling, which perhaps makes this thought even more depressing. Depressing. Depression. Maybe I do belong in here. Maybe I can get help. After all, I haven't been the most mentally sound person for the first quarter or so of my life. In fact, I bet I meet several of criteria for DSM V conditions.

I recall my conversation with the medical student. Wasn't the first time someone feigned interest in my pathetic life and I doubt it will be the last. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have admitted so much to a complete stranger. However, I am not really in the position to be shooing away people who, genuine or not, say they believe my side of the story.

My side of the story.

How did I get here.

I think back to what set of this chain of events.

An aide enters, asking for my lunch order. I request a cheeseburger and fries, best to play it safe with fried food.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, I was explaining about how I got in this quandary.

 _Knock…knock_. A fist taps on the screen door to my room. Ah, it's Mr. Locker, back for more eh? The psych team led by Dr. Mehta, a short Pakistani woman, rounded on me earlier in the day and he mentioned he would return later this afternoon. Oh how time flies when you're having fun.

"Miss Pataki? Long time, no see. How are you?" Josh asks me.

"TV seems to be stuck on Lifetime." I respond frankly.

Josh chuckles, "That is unfortunate. Anyways, I came back to hear more of your story. That is if you're up to sharing more?"

I mentally weigh the options. On one hand, I could jerk this guy around, feed him some mumbo jumbo crap while he tries to "fix me". On the other hand, he seems nice enough, no ulterior motives to speak of, after all he will be rotating to another place in a few weeks so it's not like I'll every see him again. Plus on the off-chance he can actually get me out of this nut house without being zonked out of my wits on antipsychotics then it might be worth it to shoot straight.

I opt for door #2.

"Ok, Josh. I'll tell you. But same rules apply. Keep those loose lips zipped, capiche?"

"Of course." Josh says as he sits in the chair adjacent to my bed and I prop myself up on a pillow.

"It all started…"

 _Coming home from James A Garfield High School, Helga Pataki was having an exceptional day. She had just submitted an English paper that had been months in the making. Although she had no doubt this paper would receive a favorable grade, this was not the reason for her uplifted spirits. Earlier in the day, she had shared a long anticipated conversation with a certain football-headed boy. This football-headed boy wasn't quite so football-headed anymore. In fact, one could say he was normal-headed. Standing at about five foot eight with a standard build, Arnold Shortman had grown into a fine young man. He was a member of the forensics team and a solid varsity football player. By no means was he the most popular boy in school, but he was well-liked by the majority of his classmates. In contrast, Helga Pataki had not changed as much in appearance as Arnold Shortman had from their childhood. Helga Pataki stood an intimidatingly six foot one and had little extracurriculars to speak of. She was no beauty queen what with her unibrow, unflattering if not sensible wardrobe, her pale complexion, rail-thin frame, and long blonde hair which she often wore in a pony tail. Her face was not much different from her childhood face, just on a larger canvas. She retained many of her same physical features but her temperament had calmed considerably. Electing to be more the wallflower than tank. This change was a welcome one to her old classmates, including Arnold._

 _Over the past few months, Arnold and Helga had begun an uneasy friendship. It started with the end of football season. Arnold no longer had morning practices for football so he began walking from Sunset Arms to school and his route took him alongside Helga._

 _At first, Helga tried to ignore Arnold's attempts at small talk during their shared walks. While she was still hopelessly in love with her football-headed muse, she was petrified of being rejected for the third time. After a few days, Arnold's company proved too enticing to ignore and she began to engage in pleasant small talk with her first love. Arnold, for his part, was not completely oblivious of Helga's feelings for him. At the very least, he knew she no longer hated him (she gave up the bullying act around middle school) and that she may even like him. He did not, however, comprehend how deep those feelings went._

 _Weeks passed by and it became custom for them both to eagerly anticipate these walks together, to and fro the great James A Garfield High School. Until one morning…_

 _Arnold, dressed in a red plaid shirt and khaki pants, walked next to Helga in her gray hoodie and loose blue jeans addressed his companion with earnest, "Good morning, Helga!" as he stood on her front porch._

" _Crimeny football-head, only you could be this chipper on a Tuesday at 7:30 in the morning." She responded with a playful smirk._

" _It's a beautiful morning, Helga." And it was, a crisp Indian summer morning, unusual for this part of the country._

" _Yeah, yeah.." She hopped down the steps and they began their trek to school._

" _So, Helga…"_

" _So, Arnold…" She matched as she met his soft green eyes which she had to look slightly down to see._

" _I've been thinking… well… we've been having a lot of fun on these walks everyday for what seems like a month now." He ventured, feeling nervous for what he was about to suggest. After several days of contemplation, Arnold decided he would like to get to know this girl better. After all, she may have a reputation for being somewhat closed-off but what he glimpsed insider her shell, he liked. She was sweet, nice, funny, smart, and attractive in her own way._

" _Yeah, we sure have bucko, what's it to ya? Gettin sick of little ole me already?" She asked with a hint of nervousness in her voice. She would be the first to admit behind closed doors that these past few weeks had reignited in her something she thought she would never experience again. Growing closer to her muse had inspired her, she had begun writing poetry again. For so long she had carried her torch for Arnold silently, now at long last she was growing close to him again and the prospect of losing him was terrifying._

" _No!" Arnold exclaimed, a little too quickly after hearing that from Helga. "What I mean to say… is… uh… well… you see…"_

" _While we're still young Arnold." Said Helga as she tried not to seem too desperate while waiting on baited breath._

 _Arnold steeled himself, after practicing in front of a mirror all last night, he forced himself to ask this lanky and volatile girl the question that he had been dwelling on._

" _Helga," Arnold stopped walking and grabbed her by the elbow to which she met his eyes. He would not be mesmerized by her piercing blue eyes, he would do this properly. "Would you maybe like to get something to eat or see a movie or both sometime? I know you really enjoy horror movies and there's a good one we could see on Friday. Gerald already took Phoebe to see it and they really enjoyed it. We could go as just friends." Arnold was speaking at a breakneck speed but what he just tacked on at the end, he saw caused Helga visible disappointment. Her shoulders slumped and eyes blacken in anger mixed with embarrassment. Embarrassed that she once again let this boy control so much of her life._

 _Arnold, for his part, quickly recovered, "NO!, No. That is not what I meant." He grasped both her shoulders firmly and looked right into those piercing blue eyes. "Helga, I would like to ask you on a date, not as friends but because I want to get to know you better. I'm sorry, I just got so nervous."_

 _Helga barely registered anything her boy-angel said after the word "date" was uttered. She about died right then. Sensing her jaw was ajar and that she was still staring at him, Helga quickly stuttered out a response before Arnold could retract what he said (not that she thought he would ever do such a thing)._

" _Uhhhh… I mean, sure! Whatever floats your boat, hair boy." Helga tried hard to conceal her elation, but a broad grin erupted on her face. She couldn't help but notice that Arnold was grinning as well, which only added fuel to her smile._

 _Over the next hundred yards until they reached their domain of higher learning, the two ironed out the details for this coming Friday night. Arnold would pick Helga up in the Packard and they would eat at a local café then head to an 8:45 showing of the movie. They formally exchanged phone numbers and engaged in an awkward hug/handshake hybrid. Oh well, have to start somewhere._

 _Making physical contact with Arnold within eye shot of their classmates made Helga exceptionally tense; however, she quickly noticed that no one really cared. It is high school after all and people tend to greatly overestimate other's interest in their lives._

Knock… knock, this noise pulled Helga from her reminiscing. "Miss Pataki, here's your lunch. Cheeseburger with fries. Enjoy." Stated the overworked employee.

"Interesting… so would you like to take a break or continue?" Josh questions diplomatically.

"I'm on a roll, Joshie my boy, lets keep chugging." As I take a bite of my cheeseburger.

 _That is it for now. Please let me know your thoughts. Will try to get update out soon._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3** (also from Helga's perspective)

"So where was I?" I ask the rhetorical question while I polish off my lunch.

Josh begins to respond but Helga waves him off.

"I know where I am you dinkus," Helga rebuts.

"After Arnold asked me out…"

 _Helga was on cloud nine. She was bursting with happiness and trying to keep it from showing. Rushing to Phoebe's locker, "Pheebs!" she whispers._

" _Morning, Helga!" The short Asian girl replies. Phoebe is dressed in a teal sweater and dark slacks._

" _You will literally never guess what just happened to me." Helga excitedly says._

 _Phoebe ponders for a moment. Due to her long-time boyfriend, Gerald, she thought she had a pretty good idea what Helga was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement about. "Did a certain blonde-haired boy ask you out?" she smoothly responds._

" _YES! Wait, how did you know?" Helga asks, somewhat perplexed._

" _Oh, Arnold mentioned it to Gerald a while ago that he was thinking about it. Honestly, it took all my will-power not to immediately spill the beans," Phoebe replies._

 _Helga then proceeds to rapidly catch Phoebe up on all the details of this morning, and the upcoming plans for the romantic evening with her prince charming. They both are delighted and then scurry off to class._

 _The rest of the day passes by uneventfully for both Helga and Arnold. Arnold tells Gerald he finally worked up the nerve to ask Helga out, for which Gerald gives him a hearty slap on the back. As the day nears its close at James A Garfield High School, Helga walks down the steps anticipating her walk home with Arnold. Arnold arrives and they set off, Helga with a noticeable amount more pep in her step._

 _Upon reaching her brownstone, Arnold waves goodbye to Helga while promising to text her later about the crazy stew his Grandma had planned. Helga enters her house and scrambles upstairs. Opening the door to her bedroom, she grabs a pink journal and furiously writes about the days monumental events._

 _Helga's bedroom hasn't changed much since her childhood and, secretly, she prefers this. It reminds her of happier times when she was closer to Arnold. She now mused that she would be closer to the boy of her dreams now more than ever._

 _Thirty pages of poems and journaling later, Helga set about her schoolwork for the day. But first, she would head downstairs to see if dinner or whatever Miriam had scrounged up was ready. As she ventured down the stairs, she noticed Big Bob was home. Great. Must have missed his noisy entrance when he arrived home._

 _Bob noticed his teenage daughter bounding down the stairs in a more chipper manner than usual. This immediately rubbed him the wrong way. Earlier in the day, Chet Smith of Chet's Cell Phones had met with Bob Pataki of Big Bob's Beepers for a possible acquisition of Bob's business. The beeper business had not exactly been booming and with the most recent recession, well let's just say things had been more tense than usual at the Pataki household._

" _OLGA! Quit your stomping on those stairs!" Bob bellowed._

 _Helga was not in the mood for Bob's antics today. Not even he could ruin this._

" _Oh quit your whining Bob," Helga responded as she reached the end of the stairs._

" _Don't you talk back to me Olga. You best remember who it is you're talking to," Bob stated. He was not about to take some lip after the missed opportunity earlier today. No, he would have respect in his own home._

" _It's Helga. HELGA. H. E. L. G. A." the fiery teenager exclaimed, "only an idiot can't remember their own daughter's name."_

 _As soon as she had said it, she had regretted it. Not because she was wrong, but because Miriam was nowhere to be seen, probably at the store getting dinner, and she was the only one who could calm Big Bob down. You see, Bob Pataki has a notoriously short fuse that becomes even shorter when he feels his intelligence is being mocked. When Helga called him an "idiot" combined with his failed meeting earlier today, well he was just looking for an excuse to do what happened next._

" _WHAT DID YOU SAY!" Bob yelled as he rose from his loveseat with speed Helga didn't know he still possessed._

" _I called you an idiot, BOB!" Helga countered even though she felt this would only end poorly. She was seeing red. She was in attack mode._

" _Listen here, HELGA! You better watch it! Remember who provides for your every need! SHOW ME SOME RESPECT!" Bob was now towering over Helga, at six foot five and a solid two-hundred-ninety pounds, he was intimidating to say the least._

 _Bob's last comment about providing for Helga's needs sent her over the edge. How dare he, she was the poster child of neglect. How dare he demand her respect when he had done little if anything to deserve it. She couldn't help herself when she fired back with, "My every need? MY EVERY NEED?! Really, Bob? If you what I call a childhood is providing for my every need then you're the BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE WORLD!"_

 _ **WHAM**_

 _Helga slumped to the floor. She was in shock. Her face numb from where Big Bob had left his mark._

 _Immediately, Bob Pataki wished he could take it back. Especially when his daughter gave him a look he had never seen before. Fear. It was brief. Over in a flash. But she was afraid and who knows what she would do or who she would tell of his sin. It would tear this family apart. No, he couldn't let her. Had to make her understand that it would never happen again._

 _He wouldn't get the chance now. Helga had shook herself from her brief catatonic state and bolted out the front door. She ran straight to the one place she knew she would be safe._

 _Arnold had just finished his grandma's mystery stew; he texted Helga a picture of the green concoction when a heard a frantic tapping on his sky window._

 _Looking up, he almost fell off his chair when he saw Helga Pataki with her gray hoodie pulled over her head with a look of desperation in her eyes._

 _Arnold rushed up the ladder and let in a very frantic looking blonde girl._

" _Helga! What are you doing here? Is everything ok?"_

 _She instantly regretted coming, appearing needy and insane at the same time was hardly the way to any boy's heart. Surely Arnold was no different. Helga struggled to compose herself and steady her breathing before responding, "Yeah, of course. I got your text and that stew looked so good I had to come over and try it." Not her best excuse but it would have to do._

" _Really, Helga? I sent that text like 5 minutes ago. What are you Usain Bolt or something?"_

" _Maybe I am, paste for brains! Now make with the stew. Chop, chop." Oh man, she thought. I am royally blowing it._

 _For all Arnold's denseness, he wouldn't bite on this one. No, he could tell something was off. For one, Helga's hoodie was pulled up suspiciously high but he thought he could see a mark on her face. Furthermore, she was avoiding eye contact and still very jittery. Something was clearly off. Arnold had heard Helga mention her strained home life before and ventured that her behavior now was related to that._

" _Helga," Arnold calmly spoke as he touched her arm, "look at me."_

 _Oh, it was disturbing how feeling Arnold's hand, even through the fabric of her hoodie, could soothe her in an instant. She didn't want to look at him, for she knew he would instantly see the red mark on her face. Big Bob had drawn blood, he backhanded her with his ring hand. Helga G Pataki was a disciplined girl, but when Arnold Shortman asked her to look at him. She'd look._

 _Helga slowly turned her head and looked down at her shorter companion. She heard him stifle a gasp. Then felt his other arm clasp the back of her neck and pull her into a hug. Not a bone crushing one, but soft and tender. It was at this point that Helga lost it. The tears flowed freely, and she clung to him as if he were a life raft on the raging sea that is her messed up life._

" _I…I'm…..I'm…. so sorr…. sorry Arnold," she wept into his neck as he stroked her hair, "I didn't mean to bring you into this, I just had nowhere else to go." Helga's speech was barely intelligible at this point. He knew she couldn't have gone to Phoebe's house seeing as she lived on the other side of town. But deep down he felt there was another reason Helga came to him. They shared a deep connection. Always had. One that was just waking up after lying dormant for years._

 _Arnold guided the pair down to sit on his bed. Helga continued to quietly sob while Arnold asked, "Who did this to you, Helga?"_

"… _Bob," she squeaked in between tears._

 _He wished this answer would've surprised him more, but it didn't. What did surprise Arnold was the rage he felt building up inside him. That rage, combined with this newly discovered need to be there for Helga was confusing to say the least to Arnold. He had always cared for Helga, and he asked her out earlier today because he truly wanted to get to know her better. These feelings that were bubbling close to the surface were foreign to him. He wasn't sure yet what to make of them and would not have time to dwell on this. Helga needed him now._

" _It's okay, Helga," Arnold whispered into her ear, "it's okay, he can't get you here. You're safe, you're safe with me."_

" _I know…" Helga said while she was melting on the inside from Arnold's closeness, "I've always known."_

" _What do you mean?"_

 _Helga realized she may have revealed too much._

" _I didn't want it to be this way," Helga explained with misty eyes as she moved her head from the warmth and security of Arnold's neck. She continued, "It's just that, Arnold, I have always known that I could find shelter with you. In so many ways, you've been the lighthouse for me. Guiding me home, anchoring me when I go astray. You mean more to me than you could possible know or that I could dream to express. Just know that no matter what I say or the distance I may seem to put between us, you will always be special to me."_

 _Arnold could sense that the tall blonde would go into more detail if pressed. However, he would save that for another time. "Helga, you're special to me, too. You don't have to explain anymore right now… this has been an exhausting night for you. Let me fix you something other than stew and you can stay for the night."_

 _Helga reluctantly nodded and let leave the safety of their embrace._

" _Hey, Shortman!" Phil called out to his grandson. Phil hadn't slowed much mentally or physically in his old age. He still enjoyed giving Arnold a good ribbing._

" _Hey grandpa," Arnold replied while fixing Helga a pastrami sandwich with some salt and vinegar chips._

" _What was all the ruckus in your room? Got a girl up there?" Phil nudged Arnold with his elbow._

" _Actually Grandpa, I do. You remember Helga Pataki?"_

" _Remember her? How could I forget that firecracker! Is she up there?"_

" _Yeah. I made her a sandwich since she didn't get dinner. Listen, I need your advice. Something bad happened to Helga at home. It's something the police could get involved in, but I don't know if it would make things worse. What should I do grandpa?"_

" _Geez Arnold, you gave almost no details there. You care to be a little more specific?"_

" _Helga's dad hit her."_

 _Phil looked startled then said, "I always knew Big Bob was a deadbeat but I never pegged him to do that. Figures. Well to answer your question Arnold, it's really up to Helga to decide. I mean it is her life after all."_

 _Arnold nodded, hugged his grandpa and back up the stairs._

 _The blonde boy took a deep breath before he entered his room. So much had transpired in a short amount of time. What did Helga mean when she said she knew she could always be safe with me. Why did everything have to be so cryptic all the time. Even more pressing, what should he do about her father. Deep down, Arnold knew she would never be comfortable going home again if she ever really was. He knew the police would need to be involved if Helga were to feel safe._

 _How could he have been so ignorant! He mentally chastised himself. How did he let this happen to her. Little did he know that for all the internal turmoil he was feeling, Helga was having a war with herself._

 _Helga was sitting on Arnold's bed. In Arnold's room. It smelled of Arnold everywhere. The boy she had essentially worshiped her whole life was downstairs making her something to eat. This should've felt so much sweeter. Which is why Helga was on the verge of tears again, not because of the still-stinging pain in her cheek from Bob. She wanted Arnold to fall for her for her. Not because he felt bad or wanted to shelter her. No, this is not what she had waited for. The tears were now freely flowing. Boy, she was feeling like a basket case now. Finally, Arnold was paying attention to her. Heck, he even asked her out this morning before any of this Bob business got in the way. Then Helga remained the elation she felt and thought there may yet be a path for her and Arnold. Maybe, Arnold did truly have feelings for her. Yes, she was willing to take that chance. She would risk anything to be with Arnold._

 _At that moment, Arnold coming into the room pulled Helga from her frenzied thoughts._

" _I thought I remembered you liked pastrami," he said as he put the plate in front of her on the bed._

 _Helga couldn't help the reddish hue that was now appearing on her cheeks. "I love it." She said more to him than the sandwich._

 _Arnold didn't have much time to ponder that statement as Helga ravenously devoured the meal. As she finished her modest feast, she looked up at Arnold who had stayed standing watching her eat curiously._

 _Opting to not berate his odd behavior, Helga settled for, "Thanks, Arnold. Best sandwich I ever had."_

" _I'm glad you liked it," Arnold said with a smirk. "I've got some sweats and a T-shirt you can wear to bed if you want. I'll sleep on the couch and before you argue about sleeping on the bed, I won't hear any of it Helga. You're my guest."_

" _Well look at ole football head, bossing me around for a change. It's kind of a turn on," she winked at her roommate for the night and could see him immediately turn scarlet._

" _Uhhhhhh…" Arnold was clearly not ready for that rebuttal._

" _I'll go ahead and change, where's your bathroom," Helga said while chuckling to herself. Arnold pointed her in the right direction. He knew that he would need to convince her to go to the police tomorrow morning. He also knew she would likely take this less than well._

 _Meanwhile at the Pataki Brownstone, Big Bob was panicking. Miriam had come back and he'd fed her some yarn about Helga storming out and staying at a friend's house. Not a tough sell as this exact scenario had played out many times. What he was panicking about was knowing Helga would likely go to the police. His reputation would never survive such a hit. Big Bob still had a few powerful friends and he would need to draw upon those connections tonight. However, they would never just take his word for it. No, he would need some sort of evidence to paint his daughter as unhinged in order for this to work. Which is how Bob Pataki found himself in his youngest daughter's bedroom while Miriam made dinner downstairs. Bob had scoured her entire room and closet. Feeling desperate he slid down the back wall of the closet, and that's when he saw a space in the crawl space of the closet. He cautiously climbed the ladder and peered over the edge. Jackpot._

That's it for now. I realize that there's a lot of flashback at this point. Next chapter will wrap up the flash back and we'll really get this puppy cooking. Thanks for sticking with me so far! Please rate and review.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Hey Arnold

 **Chapter 4** (Josh perspective)

Beep…Beep…Beep.

My pager was going Cedar House was one of the few facilities of those I rotated at that gave medical students their pagers.

"Excuse me, Miss Pataki, we may have to put a pin in this for today," I said as I gently took patted her on the shoulder as I rose, stiff from sitting for so long, "but I look forward to hearing the rest soon."

A flash of disappointment was on her face as I announced my leaving, but it was quickly replaced with her well-rehearsed look of ambivalence.

"Whatever floats your boat, nerd," she dismissed me and rolled over in bed to sleep.

"You should really consider getting out of bed for a minute. Wouldn't want any blood clots now would we?" I said as I strode toward the door, trying to refocus on the contents of the page from Dr. Niven I just received.

"Yeah, yeah," I heard her say.

I left the room and quickly grabbed a nearby phone to call Dr. Nived back.

"Locker, where have you been all day? We have conference in 5 minutes, get up to the Adler Room now!" Dr Nived's irritated voice came through the phone.

"So sorry, Dr. Nived, I'll be right there." I said and hung up to hurry down the hall.  
-

That night I reflected upon the events of that day in my studio apartment I rented downtown so I could easily uproot myself next year for residency. I thought of what Helga Pataki had told me. So many questions filtered through my mind.

Was she telling me the truth?

How can I find out if this is the truth?

Should I tell the rest of my team?

And most importantly, do I even care?

That last question may seem harsh. But that is the nature of medical school. I get up early, get home late, am expected to read up on the patients I see during spare evening hours I get and then must find time to study for the exam that takes place after each rotation. I don't even want to think about all the extracurriculars and research that are juggled as well. Finding time to verify Miss Pataki's story naturally fell low on my list of priorities. Nonetheless, there was something about her that intrigued me. When I really thought about it. I knew she didn't belong in this facility.

She wasn't crazy.

She needed out.

Woah, where did that thought come from. I needed so much more information before even thinking about taking any sort of action on her behalf. I would need to hear the rest of her story.

Before I knew it, my stream of thoughts had taken me to the late evening hours. I put a frozen pizza in the oven which also served to warm up the entire apartment.

Still in my scrubs from today, I looked out my window to the rainy city and again thought of tomorrow.

Did Helga's dad abuse her?

If he had connections to get her into this facility, couldn't he make things equally unpleasant for me?

That last question unnerved me greatly. But I didn't have time to dwell on it as the pizza was getting burned.

I ate the entire burned pepperoni pizza. All 1250 calories. Then off to bed.

I strolled into Cedar House bright and early. Trying to put the many thoughts of last night out of my mind. I completed my morning pre-rounds and went to check on Helga for the morning. She was sleeping as it was still quite early. I elected to visit with her later so as to not wake her.

I went to meet with the team in our very cramped workroom. I was roped into helping our intern, Dr. Perez, prepare his talk for the afternoon on the efficacy of cognitive behavioral therapy. This ate up the morning hours, then it was time for lunch.

Now, I deemed this would be a good time to check on Helga. I went to her room and saw she was eating a chef salad, vinaigrette dressing on the side while sitting in the recliner next to the bed.

"Morning Joshie boy," she greeted me with a surprisingly warm smile.

"You seem to be in better spirits today," I remarked.

Helga turned her attention back to her salad as she gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite her recliner.

"What can I say, I'm known across the world for my spectacular attitude. And you would not believe how great the chef salad is here."

"Really?" I asked genuinely interested as the cafeteria seemed pretty subpar to me.

"You just have to adjust your expectations," Helga said to me with a sly grin.

"Noted." I responded. "So how is everything going otherwise, how did you sleep, how's your mood?"

"Slept about as well as one can in this joint. As for my mood, well we've discussed my fantastic attitude already, Josh." Helga said in-between bites of lettuce and chopped onions.

"Good point. Nothing gets by you Helga."

"So, did you come by just to watch me make quick work of this salad or was there another reason," she ventured.

"Again, Miss Pataki your intuition is impressive," I half-sarcastically reply as it is clear I am interested to hear how her story continues from yesterday. "I recall us discussing the circumstances of your arrival here, and I am anxiously wanting to hear the conclusion of that."

Helga, now done with her meal, sat up in her chair and adjusted her hospital gown to get more comfortable.

I unpacked my lunch consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich on wheat with a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

"So where were we…"

That is all for now. Shorter chapter I know. Thought it was necessary to get back to Josh's perspective and have a break from the flashback. Will revisit that next chapter(s). Am excited where this story is going. Please rate and review!


	5. Chapter 5

_Apologies for the long delay in updating. I have not abandoned this story and intend to see it through to the end. This whole chapter is continuing on the flashback. I think I will abandon the perspective vehicle for the time being._

Big Bob Pataki didn't consider himself a bad person. Just a man trying to make ends meet for his family. He had hit a string of bad luck, most recently with this blown deal with Chet Smith. The deal fell through because Chet soon discovered Bob had wildly misled him on the status of his inventory. Bob led Chet to believe he had a large supply of cell phones and just needed Chet's distribution network to reach a wider consumer base.

This was not the case. Bob only has beepers. I mean it's the Beeper Emporium for crying out loud. However, Bob thought if he got Chet in the door then he could convince Chet to buy his beepers. After all, beepers are overdue for a comeback, right?

Wrong.

Chet humiliated Bob. Insulted his business acumen and ripped the deal away from him. Bob was well-aware that this was his last shot before financial ruin was inevitable. This is the state Bob was in when he returned home to his youngest daughter.

Bob's relationship with Helga was in a word, nonexistent. A workaholic with no interest in developing a real bond with Helga, it's a wonder he even knew she was home. But he did. He heard her moving around upstairs and hollered at her to come downstairs. She did which is when one thing lead to another and suddenly Big Bob is seeing red after Helga insults his intelligence. Big Bob lashed out. With his massive hand sporting an impressive gold ring he connected with Helga's face.

Immediately, Big Bob wished he could take it back. He's not a monster, just a man who had a bad day and snapped. However, that's not how Helga will see it. No, she won't forgive this and why should she? He hasn't exactly given her reason to have to benefit of the doubt. Big Bob wouldn't let this one indiscretion end him. No, he still had cards left to play. He wouldn't go down without a fight. That's not the Pataki way. Admit no fault. What's done is done. Move forward, always.

Helga had bolted out the house. No sense trying to reason with her and he had no idea where she run off to. Big Bob stormed up to Helga's room looking for something. What he didn't exactly know, but he had a feeling his daughter had something in her room that would help him. Turning over her bedroom, tossing drawers on the floor and throwing her clothes from the closet all about yielded no such luck. He was about to give in when he spied a crawl space in the closet. At first, he wasn't sure what this space contained. Turning on his flashlight revealed what appeared to be some sort of effigy and initially he was unsure to whom the sculpture was modeled for. On closer examination, the shrine appeared to be of that orphan boy with the strange head. Also, Bob was surprised to find countless pink books lining the walls of the crawl space. He opened one and saw lines of poetry describing a "corn-haired beauty" and "football-headed angel".

"Must be that Arnie kid", Bob thought to himself.

Taking a step back and removing himself from the closet, Bob weighed his options. He could either own up to his actions of striking his daughter or he could use what was found in the closet to sell his daughter out. Little time was spent deciding on the route he would take. Remember the Pataki way: Admit no fault. What's done is done. Move forward, always.

He would use the contents of the closet to paint Helga as a troubled teenager with psychotic and tendencies how attacked him in a fit of rage once he discovered the crawl space. After all, what well-adjusted girl could make a shrine to another boy. Never mind the fact that her father essentially chooses to ignore her existence and her mother is a poorly functioning alcoholic.

Even with the evidence he discovered and the lack of any other eyewitnesses, Bob suspected no cop worth their salt would believe he would need to hit Helga with force he did to leave those cuts on her face. No, he would need some assistance from the inside. Luckily, Big Bob knew one such connection: Officer Sean McDonald. Big Bob doesn't just see beepers at his Emporium. No, he also sells home surveillance equipment, some of which is not strictly legal in this state. One customer of these more advanced pieces of illegal equipment is Officer McDonald.

Big Bob dials McDonald and a gruff voice answers, "Pataki?"

"Yeah, listen Sean, I need a favor…"

Big Bob proceeds to describe the events that have just transpired and how he needs McDonald to handle his daughter should she come forward.

"Ok Pataki, if she comes in then I'll make sure she's assigned to me and it will be dealt with," McDonald responds coolly.

"Great, let me know when you have an update," Pataki barks.

* * *

Several blocks over while Big Bob was preparing to trade his daughter for maintaining his reputation, Helga was currently changing in Arnold's bathroom.

"I cannot believe the night I've had," Helga thought to herself as she relished in being surrounded by Arnold's scent. "Only a few hours ago my asshole father smacks the living daylights out of me but then here I am. In Arnold's house, wearing his plain white undershirt, about to spend a night with the boy of my dreams."

Helga luckily spied a brush from one of the boarders in the bathroom and straightened her hair out. Gazing in the mirror she studied her reflection. An expressionless face gazed back. For all the time she had spent fantasizing about this moment to finally happen, she was shockingly numb. The truth was that for as brave a face she puts on, her father's actions that night had changed her. Long had she known he didn't care for her but to strike with such malice led her to believe that he in fact despised her. And if her own father, who was genetically predisposed to liking her, hated her. Then how could anyone else, even someone like Arnold, care for her.

At this thought, she again wept. Silently, in Arnold's bathroom with a brush hanging from her long blonde hair.

 _That is it for now. I will pick up with Arnold and Helga in the flashback for chapter 6. Thanks for reading._


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